


After the War

by ashen_key



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - WWII, Comment Fic, F/M, I Don't Even Know, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashen_key/pseuds/ashen_key
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sergeant Clinton Barton had plans now that the war was over, and one of them involved tracking down that genius redhead from the British Foreign Office. </p><p>Only, Natalia Romanoff tracks <i>him</i> down first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inkvoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkvoices/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [После войны](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087448) by [Helga Winter (hwinter)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwinter/pseuds/Helga%20Winter)



> Written for the [Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff Promptathon](http://be-compromised.livejournal.com/60569.html), for the prompt _World War Two AU_. 
> 
> This is more _post_ -WWII, and it has also been written with only the tiniest amount of research (mostly, I just relied on my memory).

Sergeant Clinton Barton had plans now that the war was over. To be honest, he'd been forming these plans since Bastogne, where he had spent far too long sitting in freezing foxholes waiting for the Germans to bomb the shit out of his company. 

In no particular order, these plans were:

Move somewhere where it didn't snow;  
Get out the _hell_ of the army, and;  
Track down that genius redhead who worked for the British Foreign Office and see if she wanted to walk out again. 

There'd been other girls, particularly in Austria once victory had been declared, but Natalia Romanoff?

She'd been something, all right. He wouldn't be surprised if she'd found herself another man, but he'd be disappointed. 

From Austria he was sent to France – along with most of his company, but only most because Army bureaucracy had to be actively fucking with them now – and from France, he escaped to England for a furlough as soon as he could. 

He didn't find her. 

She found _him_. 

How Natalia managed to track him down was something he actually never found out, but later he'd put down to her secret powers. Scratch that. At the _time_ he put it down to her scary secret powers. But whether it was magic or connections from the other debutantes still working in Intelligence, he got a telegram at his hotel asking if they could meet. 

Hell yeah, Barton thought, and so he arrived at the café at the appointed time and day, and there was Natalia Romanoff. She was, it should be said, a damn fine-looking woman.

She also had with her a baby stroller 

Barton's steps slowed. 

“Ah, Sergeant Barton,” she said, and there was a small smile and those amazing polished vowels of hers and a _baby stroller_.

“Ma'am,” he said, eyes glancing from her to the kid. Baby. Cute little thing, sturdy with a head full of wispy blonde curls, chewing its (his? her?) fist. He had no idea how old, but the baby looked like she (he?) wanted to get out and start crawling. 

Natalia's smile didn't move an inch, but he found himself glancing at her sharp red nails anyway. 

“Uh, congratulations?” Barton added, and then stopped. She also wasn't wearing a wedding ring. 

“So we avoid wasting time,” Natalia said, and that bluntness was something he'd liked but things were moving a bit too fast and too slow all at once. “This is Meg. Margaret. You're her father.” 

“..ah?”

Natalia rolled her eyes slightly. “So, are you going to take a seat, or are you going to go running away?”

“...not running,” he managed, but he didn't take a seat. Instead, he squatted down in front of the stroller and regarded Meg. _His daughter._

“Hi,” he said, quietly. 

Meg gnawed her fist and stared back, and he'd never seen anything more terrifying than when she suddenly shrieked with laughter and smiled at him.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a bunch of things in my head about the background for this ficlet, about Natasha being a translator whose Russian parents escaped to England during the revolution (and Nat being BFFs with Peggy Carter, hence her daughter Margaret), and Clint being an American paratrooper, and their fling, but that'd be a much longer fic with a _lot_ of research needed.
> 
> It may one day be written, but as I have a large number of other long, needing-all-the-research fics on my plate (including another set in WWII), no promises.


End file.
